


Our Aching Hearts and Permanent Scars Meeting In Dirty Bars In The City Of a Thousand Stars

by ArcheaMajuar



Category: L.A. Noire
Genre: Coming Out, Cross-Generation Relationship, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26396071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcheaMajuar/pseuds/ArcheaMajuar
Summary: Jack is sitting in a bar, all lonely and longing for a man whose voice makes his heart throb. And the man is deliberately searching for him... in that particular bar. It's not a coincidence they are about to meet again. They were bound to meet again because basket cases are prone to roam throughout the streets of the world, and one way or another, ending up bonding with other basket cases…
Relationships: Jack Kelso (L.A. Noire)/Herschel Biggs, Malcolm Carruthers/Ray Pinker, Stefan Bekowsky/Gordon Leary, mentioned:
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	Our Aching Hearts and Permanent Scars Meeting In Dirty Bars In The City Of a Thousand Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Quite a long title, huh? I couldn't help myself... I was inspired by two songs by Green Day - Basket Case (of course) and Outlaws.
> 
> English is not my mother tongue as I'm from the Czech Republic. There are mistakes in the story, I know, but I don't have anyone around to give me their feedback on the fic, grammar and so on (but if you'd like to let me know about the mistakes, please, do so in the comments bellow or just send me an email (you find it on my profile page), it'd be much appreciated)
> 
> I'm really sorry for the errors, but I hope you'll enjoy this work anyway :)

The air was dense, heavy with cigarette smoke, distinctive perfumes, and sweat. Lights were sort of dim as if providing visitors with a fake certainty that their true intensions could get lost when not faced with bright sun of the day, and the people in here were chatting, drinking, and dancing under the illusion of happiness that only the environment of a bar like that could give them – decent and popular among proper people on the outside, yet corrupted to the core on the inside, mirroring the current American society perfectly.

Jack Kelso wasn’t dancing of course. He was sitting on a bar stool, almost blind, almost deaf to anything going on around him. It was just him and his thoughts, stubbornly occupying his weary mind despite he had tried numerous times to get rid of them, yet he felt too weak, too exhausted to do it again and again. His body hurt, and Jack involuntarily wondered whether it had something to do with the strain in his muscles, with the tension his body was constantly haunted by. It kept coming back, easing down only when he was asleep or focusing on something thoroughly, yet once there was peace and calm around, he was just a bunch of nerves anew, and therefore he wouldn’t have been surprised were the glass in his hand about to be crushed. Shards digging into his skin might’ve been enough to wake him up from this strange lethargy which Jack more or less knew what it was caused by.

Too many days, too many months he had been living without any rest. Only working on some cases, then helping Cole, dealing with his death, trying to console Elsa while she asked him of something he wasn’t able to give. Since Cole’s death, he desperately tried to relax, put his matters and thoughts and emotions in order, and maybe give himself some time to figure out what to do next. However, there was an issue even with the first thing on the list. He couldn’t relax. Hell, he couldn’t relax with the constantly nagging memories of that voice… of that voice which was capable of rendering Jack just a trembling, longing mess.

“Fuck, I’m doomed,” said Jack to himself for what felt like the 100th time, and finished his glass of bourbon, lying it on the table and refusing another one.

He had never drank much, not before the war and not even after. War… he grimaced slightly when remembering that having a bunch of guys around himself might’ve been his end weren’t he careful. Fortunately, Jack had no problems with his mates because by that time, he had already found out he wasn’t interested in his peers. He might’ve seen something in the senior officers, yet all of them were utter assholes. Jack managed to respect them for it was necessary during the war, but somewhere deep inside, he despised them all. 

Jack was sort of grateful for this… deviation of his? It certainly helped him in the war where he wasn’t smitten by a single comrade in arms, yet while his tastes were convenient in the war, once he returned home… he fell for the first older man that showed him just a subtle hint of favour. It seemed like all the basket cases were bound to roam throughout the streets of the world, and one way or another, ending up bonding with other basket cases…

It might’ve been brought about by the fact that this man used to be a Marine as well, however, Jack’s inclination that the lonely detective wasn’t somebody displaying any kind of affinity at regular basis could’ve played its part as well. Jack felt that he suffered too much in the war, going home scarred not only on his body, but mainly upon his soul, and Jack sensed the man’s heart could’ve been once a big one, yet nowadays… he devoted it wholly to his job to avoid any chances to like somebody again only just to lose everything again.

Jack understood it. Since he had returned, there were no friends, no acquaintances, not even one-night-stands. At first, he felt like he wasn’t able to like anybody again, to let them closer to him because he was afraid nobody would ever get what was going on in him…

…but for this man whom had experience roughly the same as Jack, yet being it a decade or two earlier, but Jack didn’t mind that. He was simply glad to meet another Marine whom he wasn’t familiar with, who wasn’t reminding him what he had been through, and because the detective was capable, Jack immediately learnt something from him for his career as an investigator. Their paths crossed numerous ways since then, and Jack was pleased to see him more and more… And then there was his new partner – Cole. And the case. And everything going to shit…

Jack trembled violently, biting his lip as the strong wave of emotions washed over him, leaving his soul aching terribly. Just a few days before Cole was assigned to the Arson, he was just sitting in this very bar, casually looking around, trying to relax, and then he saw him in one of the booths. Jack gulped back then, mustered his courage and ventured there, experiencing a sudden surge of relief once Hershel noticed him, and waved over to him, encouraging him to join him.

And because Jack already knew how mesmerizing Hershel’s voice was, he kept asking him questions needing long, elaborated answers. He didn’t care what they were talking about, he just wanted to listen, and during the evening and the subsequent night, he realized he was like a puppy, staring at his master with a devoted look in his eyes, yet he heart throbbed once he figured out that Hershel didn’t seem to mind. Of course, the man was an institution, sometimes so full of himself, but when they were together in the booth, having a conversation over a drink… Jack didn’t see him this way. Hershel seemed pleased that Jack was interested in his opinions on various subjects, moreover, he raised a question himself from time to time, having a very enjoyable conversation together.

It was three a o’clock once they admitted it was time to head home, yet just before they agreed on it, Jack grew sure that Hershel knew. The both of them knew why Jack was unabashed staring at Hershel, and the detective didn’t say a word, didn’t frown, didn’t left with disgust written in his features. No, nothing like that. He only sat there, talked, and watched Jack, while the softest hints of fondness and curiosity arising in his eyes. And Jack was leaving the bar with a storm raging within his soul, and with a brazen idea of Herschel’s voice saying completely different words that might be quite sufficient for the age gap between them…

 _It was a very fine night_ , smiled Jack bitterly as nothing like that was repeated in the next days or weeks. There were more important things to do, he acknowledged it, yet still… he wondered whether it might even happen again after the recent events, but maybe… Eh, maybe.

And speaking of the devil, Jack heard approaching steps that halted next to him.

“Here you are, Jack, I was hoping to find you here,” said the unmistakably pleasant voice at which Jack gave a shudder and surprised, he turned to face the detective.

“You were looking for me?” he asked and in the split second, he would’ve slapped himself for letting so many emotions slip into the question. So many emotions and so much hope…

“Yes, of course,” assented the detective as if it was the most crystal clear matter, “You care for some company?”

“Be my guest,” Jack said, baffled when watching the older man taking a seat next to him. “How you’re doing?”

“I’ve been better,” was the honest answer before the detective ordered a glass of whisky. “People are trash. Corrupted, caring just about themselves, without the slightest hint of sympathy. But that’s nothing new, I’m afraid.”

Had Herschel been only bitter or angry about the world, it wouldn’t have had much of an impact on Jack, but as the detective’s voice was resonating with deep sadness, it made his heart throb. He was right, though. It was nothing new…

“What about you, Jack? I haven’t heard from you for weeks…”

There was an urge to brush the question off, to give a curt and dismissive answer, but as Jack sensed the honesty in Herschel’s voice, the genuine interest of it, he sighed, and looked at the detective, feeling too weak to fight, so he told the truth.

“I thought it’d do me good to just sit back and let it all sink… You know like losing almost all of my mates from the war,” he grimaced, still unable to believe what they’d done and how they ended up. “I’d been thinking I’ve gotten the hang of it, but apparently, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard what happened… I mean, before this whole mess. Those who returned home should consider themselves lucky, but…”

“We all were just bad luck,” Jack interrupted him. “Falling down one after another… like fallen angels if we weren’t more like devils. Devils sinking lower and lower.”

There was a silence for a moment, Herschel sipping on his drink before turning to Jack, eyeing him closely, which the younger man noticed, yet kept looking in front of himself, his eyes now brimming with remorse he didn’t wish to share.

“You don’t seem to be sinking, Jack. You’ve gotten stuck, which might happen to everybody, but you’ll get better. Or you just accept who you are and… either use it for something good, or find another way how to be perceived as a decent human being,” heard Jack, and incredulous, he faced Herschel who didn’t avert his gaze as Jack would’ve anticipated.

He knew what he was talking about, thought Jack, being touched by the detective’s words.

“Like Cole did,” Herschel added, their eyes locked, and Jack trembled once again, but this time due to the power hidden within their conversation. Herschel was right, again, and Jack had been living by these words for years, hell, he even became an investigator to find a purpose in his life and to contribute to the well-being of the society. Still, he doubted whether it was enough. And now he heard it aloud. He heard the much needed assurance that he was doing alright.

“Thanks, Herschel,” he said because it felt like a good thing to do, yet he didn’t want the detective to perceive him as somebody he wasn’t. “However, I mightn’t occur as falling because I’ve fallen years ago, and I’m not trying to climb back. I’ve always been quite content with living the rock-bottom. That also might be the reason why I haven’t fallen like my mates. I’m used to all the shit of the world and I do not complain, do not try to bet somebody else...”

“If you see it like that, then half the LAPD is crawling the rock-bottom as well,” drawled Herschel and finished his own drink in one large gulp while Jack was staring at him, eyes brows high up. “What you’re gawking at, young man? Have I shocked you?” asked Herschel, apparently balancing on the verge of smugness and honest amusement as he dismissed the bartender’s offer to pour him another one. Jack had already noticed the older man wasn’t drinking much and preferred cigarettes to alcohol.

“Well… I haven’t met that many members of the LAPD, but… yeah, I haven’t thought there were any… flits… We maybe should go… somewhere else,” he added once he fully realized the topic of their conversation and the heat of his cheeks. He couldn’t believe that Herschel, indeed, was willing to talk about this as if he… 

Gulping and experiencing an especially hot wave of arousal, he handed the bartender money for his drink, and as Herschel did the same, they ventured out of the bar.

“Would you care for another drink? Of something softer maybe?” Jack heard himself asking as they halted outside, breathing the fresh night air. Well, as fresh as it could’ve been in a city, yet it gave Jack a good reason for another tremble for it was rather chilly. He was shaking out of nervousness, though, and his eyes were pointed on the street before him as he didn’t dare to look at Herschel, who certainly didn’t rush to answer.

“Are you inviting me over, Jack?”

“Yeah? I live only a couple of minutes away,” he said, slightly adjusting his jacket and nudging his chin in the direction where he lived. “You can continue on talking about…”

“Alright,” shrugged Herschel in the end. “It’s not like I have anything else to do,” he snorted, bitterness literally dripping from his voice, aiming right at Jack’s heart. “You know Carruthers, right? Mal Carruthers.”

“The Coroner, yeah, I’ve met him,” Jack confirmed, and together with Herschel, they started walking towards his apartment. He was anxious, his palms sweaty, and his ears literally singing with joy thanks to Herschel’s voice, and even though he wasn’t admonishing himself for such reactions in particular, he preferred keeping the atmosphere among them as relaxed as possible.

 _Herschel agreed to go with him to his apartment to drink, there doesn’t have to be anything else it_ , he reminded himself before he added, “You mean… he is…”

“For decades, Jack!” chuckled Herschel, genuinely amused by Jack’s surprised expression. “He’s been living with Ray Pinker for decades, and nobody says a word against them. Do you know why?”

“Because he is the best?”

“Exactly. Everybody knows he’s the best. And Ray is extraordinarily resourceful, too. They just make such a successful couple that even Donelly was forced, yes, you hear me, he was forced by the guys above him to tolerate them,” Herschel was positively happy about the arrangement. “It must be driving Donelly insane and he fully deserves it.”

“But I’ve heard that Pinker used to be quite a womanizer,” suggested Jack even though he was already anticipating the explanation. It was always the same one.

“It’s all just smoke and mirrors, Jack. Being a womanizer serves as the best camouflage… Bekowsky’s doing the same now, playing the head-over-heels-for-every-woman guy whose silly enough to let each of them to fool with him. Fortunately, he’s got at least some sense now when he let his lover to promote him to Homicide finally. He’s a good one, but wanted to stick around Traffic because of Leary. So here – another couple,” said Herschel once they stopped. “This is it?”

“Yeah,” said Jack and held the door open for Herschel who hesitated, but in the end entered. By the corner of his eye, Jack was observing the detective as he got the impression he was about to offer some excuse and leave. It certainly felt that way even when they were at the door leading to Jack’s flat. Jack had his hand already on the knob when Herschel gently, yet firmly grabbed on his wrist, making the younger man look up and meet his eyes.

“Wait, Jack, I… I think I should go,” said Herschel exactly what Jack had thought, so he had a convenient reaction prepared.

“I believe you shouldn’t,” he briefly gazed at Herschel’s hand that was in the next moment covered by Jack’s second palm, leaving the keys in the lock. Then he again fixed his eyes upon Herschel’s whose lips parted in surprise. “Come inside,” he added, and before Herschel could’ve recovered, he opened the door, almost dragged the detective into his flat, and then closed behind them.

“What are you doing, Jack? This is utterly insane… I’m more than 20 years your senior and you…” tried Herschel meekly to protest while waving the most predictable argument in front of Jack’s face. Jack noticed the detective wasn’t angry with him, not even uncomfortable or scared, nothing like that. He only seemed confused, plunged in disbelief, held back by the safety of loneliness.

“I don’t care about that, Herschel, I care about one single thing now. That you are a man I’ve fallen for,” Jack stepped closer, inhaling the scent of ash accompanying Herschel everywhere, and he even narrowed his eyes when Herschel spoke up again, and most importantly commented on Jack’s quite obvious coming out.

“But an old one, Jack, and you’re in the prime of your life, don’t waste it on me,” the detective said quietly, sadness literally pouring down from his words, his eyes soft, and Jack closed his own eyes once the detective probably lost himself in the moment, rising his hand to caress Jack’s cheek tenderly.

“I want you,” Jack’s voice was determined, yet slightly quivering with need to be closer to the other man, so he allowed himself to do so at least a bit, leaning into Herschel and whispering into his ear, “I’ve been thinking of you since you’ve talked to me for the first time… Since then, I’ve been obsessed with your voice, and then with you and the alluring idea of you… touching me…”

“Jack!” Herschel literally groaned, partially due to arousal, partially due to frustration caused by Jack’s unwillingness to be rational. “You’ve fallen for the wrong guy… There’s nothing more in me, nothing I could offer you, just a burnout shell… a basket case…”

“You have a good heart, Herschel, and in this world, it feels like enough for me,” whispered Jack, brushing Herschel’s temple with his own, hearing his sped up breath, and he sighed contently once he felt Herschel’s hands upon his back, hugging him hesitantly. “People are trash… we are trash… but we’ll get better. Or we just accept being two basket cases… together,” he said quietly, and with his heart violently beating within his chest, he placed a sweet little kiss under the detective’s ear, earning a gasp from Herschel.

“You’re giving me hope… Too much hope. Be careful with that, my boy,” growled Herschel and Jack could feel the way the detective shivered once Jack moaned, leaning into him.

“Say it again…” Jack asked him in a wanton voice.

“W-what?” Herschel was still insecure about the situation, so Jack planted another kiss onto his neck, while reaching for the detective’s hand.

“You haven’t figured out what you’re doing to me yet?” he breathed out a rhetorical question when grabbing Herschel’s hand, and with growing anticipation, he lead Herschel’s hand to his front and pressed Herschel’s palm to his crotch, to the undeniable proof of his arousal.

“For God’s sake… Jack!” exclaimed Herschel in a low, raspy voice, and before he could’ve refrained from doing so, he squeezed Jack’s hard member, while with the other hand, which was still lying on Jack’s back, he pressed their bodies as close as it was possible.

“Yeah, Herschel...” moaned Jack quietly right into Herschel’s ear, eyes shut for he was totally savouring the contact of their bodies, the heat, the desire forming between them. “Please… stay with me… at least tonight.”

With another stroke Herschel gave to Jack’s arousal, he drew back a bit so he could lock their eyes for a second before Jack’s eyes dropped to Herschel’s lips, and neither of them hesitated this time. Closing the remaining distance between them, their lips collided in a slow, tentative, yet very much emotional kiss…

Jack gripped on Herschel’s jacket, trying to grasp that they were really kissing in his flat, the older man interested in him, hugging him, stroking him… wanting him…

“You’re unbelievable, my boy,” said Herschel once they parted, and as another moan escaped through Jack’s lips, a mischievous spark appeared and gloriously gleamed in his eyes when he added, “Let’s head to your bed. It would be safer for me were you about to call me daddy and my knees would go weak as the result...”

**Author's Note:**

> What do I always fall for non-existing ships... why? I do not complain, I just wonder :D


End file.
